“Outside Paris, but just for the time it takes to change planes. It’s a pity we won’t have time to see the city.”
An Air France employee came to collect Daldry and Alice. Soon the other passengers joined their group and they were escorted onto the tarmac. Alice saw the immense, gleaming plane looming above her. A long flight of stairs led to a hatch in the rear of the cabin, where a stewardess, wearing a most becoming uniform, welcomed the passengers. Her smile reassured Alice, who imagined how incredible it would be to have her job as she walked down the central aisle of the DC-4’s cabin.
The interior was far roomier than Alice had imagined. She took a seat in an armchair as comfortable as the one at home, apart from the seat belt, which the stewardess showed her how to attach if ever there was a problem.
Alice began to worry again. “What sort of problem?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the stewardess, smiling a convincing and reassuring smile. “We’ve never had one. There’s really no need to worry, madam. Everything is going to be just fine. I take this flight every day, and I’m still not tired of it.”
The cabin door closed, and the pilot came to greet each of the passengers before returning to the front of the plane, where his copilot was ticking off items on a checklist. The engines rumbled to life, and a wreath of flames licked the wings as the propellers spun in a deafening racket. Soon the blades were just an invisible blur.
Alice braced herself against the back of her seat and gripped the armrests. The cabin vibrated slightly. The ground crew removed the blocks from the wheels. Alice was seated in the second row and missed nothing of the radio exchanges from the open cockpit. The pilots communicated with the control tower, assisted by a radio mechanic with a heavy French accent.
She turned to Daldry. “I don’t understand how the people he’s talking to can possibly understand him.”
“The important thing is that he’s good at what he does. He doesn’t have to be an expert in foreign languages. Sit back and enjoy the view. Think of poor Adrienne Bolland. We’re flying in much better conditions.”
“I should hope so,” said Alice, tightening her grip.
The DC-4 aligned with the runway in preparation for takeoff. The sound of the engines got louder, and the cabin vibrated even harder. When the pilot released the brakes, the plane picked up speed.
Alice pressed her face against the window and watched the tents and sheds of the makeshift airport roll past. Suddenly, she was struck by a new sensation. The wheels had lifted off the ground, and the plane rocked slightly as it gained altitude. The runway dwindled from view beneath them before disappearing and giving way to the English countryside. As the plane continued to climb, the farmhouses that appeared in the distance below grew smaller and smaller.
“It’s absolutely magical,” said Alice. “Do you think that we’ll fly through the clouds?”
“Well, I certainly hope they won’t stop us,” said Daldry, unfolding his newspaper.
Before long, they were flying over the English Channel. Alice was so elated that she tried to count the crests of the waves that rose like tiny, regular folds on the fabric of the vast blue expanse.
The pilot announced that they would soon be able to see the coast of France.
The flight took just under two hours. As the plane approached Paris, Alice could barely contain herself when she made out the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
The layover at Orly Airport was brief. An Air France employee escorted Alice, Daldry, and the other passengers continuing on to Vienna across the tarmac to a second plane. Alice was so fixated on the next takeoff that she didn’t listen to a word Daldry was saying.
The Air France flight from Paris to Vienna was more turbulent. The jolts that lifted them out of their seats amused Alice, but Daldry was a little less at ease. Still, he managed to eat a hearty meal, after which he lit a cigarette and offered one to Alice, who politely refused. She turned back to the fashion magazine in which she was currently absorbed that illustrated the latest collections of the Parisian couturiers. Never in her life had she imagined she would experience something like this, and she swore that she had never been happier. Daldry was glad to hear this, but suggested that she conserve her energy. He had plans for them in Vienna that evening.
Austria was covered in an expanse of white snow that stretched all the way to the horizon. Daldry had fallen asleep after lunch and woke up only when the DC-4 was making its descent into Vienna.
“Please tell me I didn’t snore,” he said as he woke up.
“The engines nearly covered the noise,” said Alice.
The wheels touched down and the plane rolled to a stop in front of a hangar, from which the airport personnel wheeled a flight of stairs for the passengers to disembark.
A taxi had been reserved to take them to the city center. Daldry told the driver they were going to the Sacher Hotel. As they neared the Heldenplatz, the truck in front of them hit a patch of ice, swerved, and flipped over, blocking the street. The taxi driver braked, narrowly avoiding the overturned truck. It was over in the blink of an eye. Passersby hurried to assist the driver, who was pulled out of the cab of the truck uninjured, but the accident had blocked traffic in both directions. Daldry anxiously glanced at his watch. As the minutes ticked past, he started to mutter impatiently under his breath. Alice didn’t know what to think.
“We almost got killed, and you’re worried about the time?” she asked.
Daldry ignored her and asked the driver to find a way to get them out of what was now a traffic jam. The driver didn’t speak English and shrugged, gesturing helplessly at the chaos that surrounded them.
“We’re going to be late,” Daldry muttered with disgust.
“What on earth for?” asked Alice. It was beginning to dawn on her that Daldry had once again made plans without bothering to inform her.
“You’ll see when it’s time. That is, if we don’t end up prisoners in this taxi for the rest of the night.”
Alice opened the door and got out of the taxi without speaking a word.
“Come on, don’t pout,” he said, leaning his head out of the window.
“You’ve got quite the nerve, to make plans, complain when they go wrong, and never even bother to tell me what they are. Or even ask if I want to be part of them.”
“I can’t tell you. That’s all there is to it.”
“Well, I’ll get back in when you feel that you can.”
“Alice, stop acting like a child. You’re going to catch a cold again. It’s certainly not worth making a complicated situation even worse.”
“What situation are you talking about?” Alice now stood with her hands planted accusingly on her hips.
“The one we’re in. Stuck in traffic when we ought to already be at the hotel getting changed.”
“Do we have a ball to attend?”
“Not quite,” said Daldry. “But I won’t say anything more. Now get in. I have a feeling we might start moving again.”
“I have a much better view from out here, and I can assure you that we’re going nowhere. We’re staying at the Sacher Hotel, is that right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I can see it from where I’m standing. I would say it’s a five-minute walk.”
For once, Daldry was at a loss for words. The cab ride had been paid for by the airline, so he took their suitcases from the trunk and hurried down the icy sidewalk toward their hotel. Alice tried to keep up as best she could.
“We’re going to break our necks,” said Alice, grabbing Daldry by the sleeve. “What in God’s name is the hurry?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Come on, we’re almost there.”
The doorman greeted them and took their luggage.
Alice admired the heavy crystal chandelier hanging high above the reception area. Daldry had reserved two rooms and received the keys from the man behind the front desk once he had filled in the hotel register. Daldry looked at the clock above the counter and his face dropped.
“There we are. It’s too late.”